Thoughts on an Afterlife

Imagine you are dead.

“You are dead.” The voice in my head was sudden and final.

“How can I be dead and talking to you?” I asked.

“Do you feel your lips moving?” It replied.

“No,” I said honestly.

“I am your imagination,” the voice expanded, “We created your eternal resting place.”

“So, when someone says, ‘He took a dirt nap,’ or 'It's the big sleep for him,' they weren’t kidding?” I was curious now.

“Well, I guess so,” the voice said, “but kind of crude don’t you think?”

“So, what do I call you?” I asked. “Are you me? Because that is going to get confusing if I have to call you Jim Finestead too, you know.”

“You don’t need to call me anything.” It seemed rattled at the question. “I am just a voice in your head, a figment of your imagination that lives beyond your mortal being on earth.”

“Okay. I am going to call you Dickburt. Dickburt is an easy name to remember.”

“I’m not Dickburt,” Dickburt said. “I am a voice in your head.”

“Well, now you’re a voice called Dickburt,” I told Dickburt. “You are in my head so you play by my rules.”

“Listen here, don’t you have any important questions to ask me or want to plead with me to give you your life back? Aren’t you worried about what comes next or how long this will be going on for?” Dickburt sounded rattled like he was used to having things his way all the time.

“Well, let’s see here,” I started in on what I knew. “I am dead, you are Dickburt, a voice in my head for eternity, I guess, so I likely won’t be lonely. Maybe a bit perturbed at times but not alone. What more do I need to know?”

“Aren’t you curious about how you died?” Dickburt asked. “Don’t you want to know if this is all there is to death?”

“It doesn’t matter to me how I died, nothing I can do about that now,” I replied, “and as far as what else there is to look forward to, I can either be told or wait to be surprised. I don’t think there is any rush to decide, I am going to be here a while, right?”

“All right then,” Dickburt countered. “What do you want to do now?”

“Well, I was thinking I would take a nap, if you don’t mind.” I told Dickburt.

“But you have an eternity to sleep,” Dickburt was sounding frustrated.

“Didn’t you ever hear anyone say, “‘I can sleep when I am dead, I just gotta get this project done?’”” I asked. “I worked my way into the wee hours of the morning too many times to not understand how important sleep is.”

“It’s the way you died, you know. You worked yourself to death,” Dickburt said with a bit of a high-and-mighty tone to him.

“Really, I thought I got shot in an alley by my bookie’s bodyguard,” I joked.

“You never placed a bet in your life,” Dickburt retorted. “Are you honestly trying to lie to your own imagination?”

“Well, I was trying to have fun with it but, fine, have it your way,” I said. “How did I die?”

In reality, or as close as this was to it, I knew how I died. I worked way too hard for way too long to get away with it. Too many days going on two to three hours sleep worrying about deadlines and account payables versus accounts receivables. I was a ticking time bomb. Not that I had any regrets though. I loved it. It was a constant adrenaline rush and it drove me. I knew it would all come to a bad ending for me but it was the price I was always aware I was going to pay.

“You know damn well how you died, don’t patronize me.” Dickburt seemed angry and I questioned the logic in that. “Listen here buster, we are going to be hanging out together for a long, long time so you better get with the program and act like a dead guy that just realized his whole afterlife will be imagined.”

“But didn’t I always imagine what my afterlife would be like when I was alive?” I knew I was poking the bear but who could resist.“It always made me wonder.”

“Do you want to hear about what is going on or not?” Dickburt growled, “I got information here if you would like to take the time to listen to me without any smartass remarks.”

“Fine, go ahead, I’ll keep quiet,” I assured him.

“Okay then, as we have already established, you are dead,” Dickburt started in, “you died at work just like you always thought you would and you died regretting that you didn’t spend enough time there. You felt you got enough out of your work in the end.”

“I was grumpy but I was happy,” I chimed in.

“Right, you were a weirdo,” Dickburt shot back. “Anyways now that you are dead you are to gain enlightenment. Some of which is becoming aware that the imagination does not die with your body. Your body goes to its eternal resting place and you dream for eternity. You can be anywhere with anybody anytime; you don’t need to be hungry or you can eat yourself fat anytime you want. Or, you can imagine yourself bored or horrified and be trapped in a hell only you could imagine.”

“So, I can do anything I want?” I asked.

“Yes,” Dickburt said.

“So, if I do take a nap, when I wake up it will still be the same no matter what or how long my nap is?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Dickburt.

“Okay then, I have two questions,” I said.

“Shoot,” replied Dickburt. “That's what I am here for.”

“First, if you are my imagination, why are you telling me stuff I don’t know and two, why won’t you let me take a nap?”

“Because I am supposed to be your guide through all this.” Dickburt was close to yelling at me now. “Secrets in you have been unlocked since your death that are communicated through me to you. And I need you to start acting like a normal dead human being and get more concerned about your hereafter. That’s why!”

“So, there’s only me and you right?” I was trying to tread lightly so Dickburt wouldn’t blow a gasket.

“Yes,” Dickburt said warily as if waiting for me to get him mad again.

“So, what difference does it make when this all happens?”

“Because there are things you need to know about that you might miss if you are napping.” Dickburt said, seeming pleased with my question and even more pleased with his answer.

“Like what?” I asked, genuinely interested for the first time since I died.

“Well, for instance, there are the dream dancers that come around,” Dickburt informed me. “They don’t come around that often and you might miss them.”

“What is and what does a dream dancer do?” I asked.

“They are other imaginations that travel from dreamer to dreamer to give them new thoughts and create new images for all those here in the afterlife.”

“How did they get that job?”

“Not sure,” Dickburt confided, “I think it may have either been in the way they lived or the way they died. It wasn’t something I asked about. I don’t think anyone did, we just took them at face value and carried on.”

“How do we know I am not a dream dancer and that I might be called out on a dream dancer mission at any moment?” My question put Dickburt on a time out.

“I guess we don’t,” came the reply when he finally finished thinking it through.

“Well then don’t you think I should be well rested in case I gotta pick up and go at any moment?” I asked.

“Why are you so concerned with sleeping?” Dickburt yelled at me, “You have all the time in the universe to sleep.”

“I just want to rest in peace,” I said with a touch of humour. “I am sure I saw that on a couple of tombstones when I was on the other side of this whole life thing.”

“Fine then,” Dickburt griped, “go ahead, sleep. But don’t blame me if the wheels fall off this thing or your whole death train thing derails.”

“Alrighty then,” I replied happily. “Goodnight, I am sure I won’t sleep too long and then we can carry on with Project: I’m Dead.”

Everything went quiet. My mind shut down and I was by myself and could feel myself drift off. And then it happened.

“Am I asleep?” I asked.

“Yes, you are,” replied Dickburt.

“Then what are you doing here?” I wondered.

“You are dreaming,” Dickburt replied.

“So, how’s that different from what I was doing before I was asleep?” I knew I was losing the battle at this point.

“You were awake before,” Dickburt responded.

“Well, let’s go get some coffee, shall we?” I put it out there to see what would happen.

“Sure,” Dickburt replied. “Wake up and let’s get some coffee.”

“How do I wake up?” I said, a bit worried now.

“Hey, it was you who wanted the nap,” Dickburt replied. “Just do the opposite of what you did to fall asleep maybe.”

“I can’t do that, it’s totally opposite of falling asleep.”

“Isn’t that what I just told you to do?” Dickburt sniped.

“But I can’t wake up from something if there is no difference between what is happening when I am asleep and when I am awake.” I was starting to worry bigtime. “How can I wake up if I think I already am?”

“OW,” I yelped. “Did you just hit me?”

“You must have imagined it,” Dickburt said..

“So, am I awake now?” I asked hopefully.

“Yep,” Dickburt responded. “You are.”

“Not much difference, eh?” I noted.

“Guess not,” Dickburt said. “What do you take in your coffee?”

“Don’t push your luck, Dickburt,” I shot back.